A Dance of Pawns
by Odisboinski
Summary: A little filly washes up on an unknown island. Devoid of memory, soaked to the bone, and utterly confused, she begins her journey. However, she is not alone on the island, and many dark secrets are yet to be revealed, both about the island and her own past.
1. Chapter 1

A Dance of Pawns

 **Chapter 1: The Sodden Maiden**

Thunder. Lightning. A jagged bolt of electricity tore a rip in the sky, unleashing a deluge of freezing rain that had been pent up, trapped beneath the dark canvas of the sky. Far below was a massive ocean, roaring and howling its derision to the furious sky above. More lightning crackled, unleashing blasts of sound that screamed through the atmosphere. In return the waves reared their heads, frothing foam being swept into the wind as the slammed to the ground, unleashing their own explosions of sound. Light. Noise. Sky. Earth. It was a battle of might. Then there was a young filly. A small sodden bundle caught in the battle. She was no more than fourteen years old, a soaked bundle, clinging to a buoyant strip of metal and wood. She was unconscious; a strip of leather acting as the only safeguard between the lifesaver and the wet embrace of death. The elements did not care for her, though. They continued to battle, the ocean reached up with gigantic paws of water to swipe at the sky as the sky struck down with its thin, spindly hands and fingers of lightning. The filly twitched as her body automatically acted to force water out of her lungs as a load was dumped down her nostrils and slightly-agape mouth. But there was nothing she could do. She could not stop the war of the elements. The little child slumped further, unconsciously dragging her scrap of wood closer to her freezing as the waves carried her bodily wave into the darkness. Everything went black, and the storm kept raging.

 **…**

Heat. Sand. The sound of a bird cawing harshly to the open sky above woke her up. The little filly opened up one eye and ground. She squinted as the blinding light of an unforgiving sun bore down upon her pupils with unfaltering intensity. More cawing. The sodden little bundle lifted her head to see a host of white-feather birds. Seagulls. They were staring at her curiously. No. They weren't curious. Expectancy shone in their eyes. They weren't interested in her. They were waiting expectantly for her to die, so they could pick her flesh from her bones. Something about this thought triggered her brain. Death. That wasn't for her. She spat in the face of death, didn't she? That was something she had told someone… Somewhere… Sometime ago…

The filly struggled to all fours with a growl. She was alone on a beach. The white-and-yellow sand stretched on forever in both directions, curing away into a massive bay. In the faint distance she could make out the harsh sickly greens of a jungle. Behind her was an ocean of saltwater, and before he was an ocean of sand, both with their own rises and falls. The filly raised her head to look a little farther in each direction. However, she suddenly doubled over and vomited water stained with blood all over the ground. The mixture of water and blood was immediately sucked up by the bone-dry sand, which had been suffering beneath the fiery lash of the sun for countless eons now. The child struggled up again, her throat rattling and her breathing heavy. Her stomach clenched and her vision blurred. But even this didn't stop her. She wasn't about to give up.

She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but only a harsh wheezing escaped from her throat. She coughed again, vomiting up even more seawater. She collapsed to the ground again, burying her face in the sand. The seagulls just continued to stare. Waiting for her to cough her last cough. The filly wasn't about to give them that pleasure. She shot up, trying with every centimeter of her soul to keep herself from passing out. She opened her mouth one more time.

"Go away!" she shouted. "I'm not dead yet! Go away!"

Her voice, though weak, came out loud and startling. Giving her the most baleful look that a bird could muster, one of the seagulls glanced at his compatriots and squawked. They rose as one and sailed off into the sky, disappointed. The filly shuffled after them, yelling at the group from the shore below.

"That's right, you run away! If you come back I'll break your skulls! Every last one of them!"

The filly, no totally drained of her strength, stumbled and fell hard on her face. She lay there for five full minutes, doing her best to not pass out. As she did that, she tried to remember. Nothing specific. She just tried to remember. Her nostrils flared in frustration, blowing little rivulets in the sand. She couldn't remember a thing. She had no memory. There was a storm. Flashes of lightning, roar of thunder. There was the ocean. Towering waves, doing their utmost to drag her deep into their cold, wet embrace… And now here she was. The filly slowly sat up. She wasn't as dizzy anymore, and her stomach was no longer churning. All she felt now was a great, great thirst.

"I… I need water," she said out loud. There was no one around. She could say whatever she wanted, as loud as she wanted. Slowly the child got to her feet. She began to crest the first dune that rose before her, acting as a barrier between the saltwater-soaked shore and the rest of the desert-like beach. She tumbled downward on her first try, her knobby knees too weak to support the rest of her body. She growled in anger as she came to a stop at the foot of the first dune, covered in sand particles that were glued to her sodden coat by sweat and seawater. She forced herself to get up. With grunts of exertion she forced herself over the first dune, rolling down the opposite side.

She picked herself out of the sand and looked up: Another sand dune, almost identical to its brother, stood high and mighty, waiting to be conquered. The filly spat out the mouthful of sand she had swallowed from her roll and started forward, panting. She crested that one with a passion, completely determined to not give up. These dunes could go to hell for all she cared. They couldn't stop her. Nothing could. She crested another dune, and then another, and then another.

Finally even the reserves of the reserves of her bodily energy were drained. With a choked growl she buckled and lay face down in the sand. Her throat was so parched, and the blurring of her vision had returned.

"I'm not gonna die…" she gasped to the water-drained surroundings. "I'm… I'm not gonna die. I'm just gonna lie here for a bit to take a rest. I'll be right back…"

The filly turned on her back, shifting to a belly-up position. Her right he slapped against something. She opened an eye. It was a scrap of metal. The filly held it close to her face, sifting through her distorted, blurry vision to identify the object. It looked like a hubcap. And what's more was that it was shiny. It was new. It had not been buried in the sand for long. This revelation made the little pony look around. She was in a sandy bowl, surrounded on all sides by tall sand dunes, dry and ancient. Then she saw it: Smoke pouring into the sky from over the rim of the sand dune to her right. With newfound energy giving her yet another boost, she got up and struggled to the crest of the dune. A small jeep lay in a jumbled heap at the foot of the dune. It was smoking and sparking as fire ate it from the inside out. A pony lay at the wheel. It was dead, with half of its head missing, undoubtedly blown away from a large bullet. For some strange reason this didn't shock the filly. This was death. A part of life. Something she had come to accept years ago… Years that she had forgotten. Slowly she approached the wreck, shielding herself from the onslaught of heat with a hoof. She got close enough to inspect the fire-gutted ruin. She saw it. A large bottle of water slung about the neck of the dead pony. The filly crept up to the jeep, squinted with teeth bared as the heat singed her fur and burned her flesh. She yanked the bottle away from the corpse and then stumbled back. Without a single glance back she dragged herself back up from whence she came, tumbling down the opposite side to come to rest where she had discovered the hub cap, with a water bottle in-hoof. Slowly she opened up the cap and drank half of it. It was warm and tasted brackish, but she didn't care. She kept drinking. In the back of her mind something told her she wasn't supposed to drink it so quickly, but she couldn't help it. She gagged it up and coughed up some. Slowly she screwed on the cap and rubbed her weary eyes with a grubby hoof.

"First order o' business: Survival," she muttered. "So… I'm not dead. What now?"

The filly shrugged. "Rest… I guess."

Slowly she walked over to the shade of right dunes. The sun was still in the infancy of reaching noon, and so there was still ample shade cast by dunes to the east. She lay down in the shade and drank a little more water. She lifted the water bottle in a little salute to the undying sun above. "Still not dead," she said. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

The little pony was awoken some time later by something sharp prodding her in the belly. She creaked open one eye, looking for the unwanted visitor while doing her best to appear completely asleep and harmless. The wielder of pointed stick was a dog. Dog? She didn't know how she knew that word, but she knew it nonetheless. The name seemed so right for the hideous creature before her. Its eyes were an iridescent lime green, which had slit pupils situated in the center of the green eyeballs. Its arms were long, lick a gorillas, stretching down to its back legs and feet. On the end of each arm was a large hand with long claws. It was covered in a thin fuzz colored in a light sand-color, allowing it to blend in perfectly with the desert-like environment. It grinned veraciously, continuing to prod her stomach. The filly moved like lightning. Faster than the eye could follow, she grabbed the pointed stick – wrenching it from its owners grasp – and then proceeded to use it to wind the creature and shove it over. It was over in a second, and ended with the filly standing over the downed dog, pressing the pointed end of the stick to its throat. The dog growled and snapped its teeth dangerously. The filly growled back with equal or greater vehemence. This shut the dog up, who stared at her with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

"Whatcha want?" the filly snapped, pressing the pointed stick hard into the creature's neck.

The dog choked and glared at the filly. "We're the sand dogs. Pony is in our land. Pony has water. Pony's water is ours now."

The filly threw back her head and laughed. It was wheezy, and her mane clung to her muzzle in sweaty, straggly strands, but it made for a fearsome sight nonetheless.

"Your water?" she growled. "Over your dead body!"

The sand dog actually smiled. "No, foolish pony. Over your dead body."

Out of the corner of her eye, the filly saw movement. More sand dogs. The creatures rose like long-dead specters, sand draining from their fur like water. Their eyes stared at her balefully. There were at least two hundred.

"Pony… Give us… The water…" hissed the sand dog.

The filly didn't waver. "Over… Your… Dead body…" she snarled.

Grinning, the sand dog replied. "You give us water, or you die."

She filly returned the grin, as wild and reckless as ever. "Better idea. You leave me alone or you die."

The sand dog just blinked, his eyes reflecting anything but fear. "Foolish pony. I'm no leader."

The filly shrugged. "Then you won't mind me doing this." The filly jammed the pointed stick down, running the sand dog through the throat. The sand dog jerked, his limbs flailing in the air. A spurt of blood oozed from the sand dogs mouth, running down the side of his mouth to join the rivulets of blood streaming from his tear glands. The filly withdrew her stick and turned to face the sand dogs. They had slowly surrounded her. Rank upon rank stared at her with eyes as cold as the void. There would be no mercy. The filly knew this, but she felt no fear. Only a fire that burned in her very soul. She raised the pointed stick.

"Right!" she roared. "Which one o' you lily-livered cowards is next?"

As one, the entire group rushed her, like an ocean. The filly remembered the ocean. It too had tried to drown her to death, dragging her down and battering her into submission. She smiled. The ocean had failed. These fools would too. Twirling her stick with a skill she could not recall having, she dove into the first wave. She speared one, and knocked out another in the same movement. She withdrew her spear and sidestepped the jabbing attack of another sand dog. She rammed the point so hard into the stomach of the enemy that she speared her and one of her comrades that stood right behind. Another sand dog ducked beneath her outstretched hoof and attempted to tackle her. The filly bucked him to the floor. He fell dazed. Without thinking she picked up the confused sand dog's head and twisted it, snapping the neck effortlessly. The little child hesitated for a moment. Where had she learned that move? She couldn't remember, but she had performed it flawlessly. That hesitation cost her. She gasped her a spear stuck her in the side. A splash of ice-cold pain ran up her little frame, and her blood spirted out to join the large pool of sand dog blood swirling at her feet, pouring out too fast for the dry sand to drink it up.

The filly turned on the new assailant, yanking the spear head out of the wound in her side with a single jerk. Teeth bared, she leapt upon the sand dog. Without even thinking she seized the throat of the target and bit down, hard. She heard a wet crunch, and felt the flimsy throat give way. Her mouth filled with blood. Warm, tangy and salty; intoxicating. She lifted her head and spat out the blood. Slowly she rose to all fours. Slowly she picked up the spear with one forehoof while wiping the blood that stained her muzzle with another. The sand dogs just stared in horror. They hadn't bargained from this.

"Come on!" she screamed hysterically as she clasped her free forehoof to her side, doing her best to staunch the flow of blood that rand down her side, dripping to the earth from her belly. "Who's next?!"

The sand dogs shifted uncomfortably, looking from one to the other. Finally they bunched together to make another charge. Once again they rushed her, and once again they were beaten back. The filly was like a war machine, handling the spear with perfect skill. She swept it, precisely severing the throats of the first couple that rushed her. She then vaulted over the heads of a couple more. She landed, pinning another beneath her as she jabbed at the speed of light, sticking five more in vital places. As they fell she turned to deal with the others. She grunted as another spear cut a gash in her right shoulder, but even that could not stop her. She struck the attacker in the face, breaking their nose. They died by the spear before they could even stumble. Another wave ran in. Another spear sliced a long cut in the little pony's back left leg. The leg buckled, and the filly fell to the ground. But she didn't give in. She kept wielding the spear high, beating off the attacks once more, and bringing down another dozen. Sadly the loss of blood was costing her. The blurry vision had returned, and her breathing had become labored, but she hadn't given up. That wasn't in her nature. She would fight until her last breath… And that seemed very soon. The sand dogs, still a hundred-and-fifty strong, bunched together for one final attack. Then they came.

A sand-colored jeep leapt over the sand dune facing the west. Two ponies were riding shotgun, armed to the teeth. The one driving had two long machetes strapped to his back and a glock strapped to his right shoulder. The one in the passenger's seat had a sniper rifle in-hoof with an AK-47 slung about his back.

"Coming throuuuugghhhh!" screamed the one driving. The jeep crashed down on the windward side of the dune and spun into the battle with the two ponies screaming all the way. They came to a stop with the driver's door facing the blood-soaked form of the filly. A sand dog was standing above her, victorious, with a spear raised high. He was readying himself to drive it into her skull. He looked up to find himself staring into the face of Bragurn Sorabando. He was pointing his glock at the sand dog's forehead.

"Ello mate."

Brag pulled the trigger, scattering the offending sand dog's brains to the winds.

"Get out there and grab the filly, dude," said the passenger, Franklin Montgomery. "I'll drive. Or… Pretend to drive at least. Hurry before these sand dogs figure out what's happening!"

Brag leapt out bodily. He seized the disheveled pile of skin and bones that was the filly and piled into the open backseat, shoving himself in beside large crates of ammunition, explosives, and food supplies. Franklin hurriedly shifted into the driver's seat and stepped on the gas. Sand exploded from the back wheels as they spun in a blur, looking for purchase. The jeep fishtailed for a second, and then shot forward with a roar. The sand dogs just lay there, still utterly confused by the attack of that meteorite of a jeep… And by the fact that one little filly had killed fifty of their warriors.

"This was a really dumb idea," snorted Franklin, looking is his rearview mirror fervently. "Seriously, Brag. That commotion could have attracted Tyre's soldiers. The last thing we want it them finding our base."

"A foal's life was on the life, mate," said Brag, checking the body of the filly.

Franklin thought about it for a moment. "Oh yeah. Good point. I take it back. Just remember what I said about Tyre's soldiers."

"Yeah, yeah. I did. An' don't worry. We're fine."

Brag turned his back on Franklin and grimaced as he found the outlet of blood that was pouring all over the backseat. A large hole in her side. Fumbling with a large green case labeled "First Aid", Brag pulled out strips of linen, gauze, and disinfectant. He piled it on, wrapping strip after strip after strip about her body, doing his utmost to keep the filly from losing any more blood. He pressed a hoof firmly over the dark red spot spreading in the bandages, apply as much pressure as he dared to the wound.

"Keep alive, young'un," Brag muttered fervently. "Don't you go and die on me!"

The filly murmured softly. She was unconscious, but she had been awake that would have been the only thing she would have said. She had no intention of dying. None at all.

The jeep sped away from the large desert-like beach, shooting into the thick jungle that bordered the beachfront. The jungle was massive, like a bulwark of emerald, acting like a massive humid barrier between the land of yellow and the land of green. In a flash they were gone, swallowed by the ghostly jungle trees.

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 **Author's Notes. Hi! I'm just going to leave this here and see what people think of it. I wrote it on a whim... Mostly because I love the characters and the premise. Let me know if you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes. Hey there! Before we get underway, I am going to take a moment to answer some reviews.**

 **To bluecatcinema: Don't worry! We'll definitely get to Brag and Franklin. I mean, how in the hay did they end up on that island themselves?**

 **To Guest: Glad you've enjoyed this story thus far! Read on!**

 **To blakewitt37: PROBABLY. In truth, this was never intended to be a story. Instead it was supposed to be part of my other story, "A Mending Soul." However, "A Dance of Pawns" became too long and unique to be used like that, so I decided I would break it off entirely and develop it into its own story. Hopefully there is enough material for me to press this to completion!**

 **That's all for now. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 2: An Uncertain Alliance**

The first thing the filly felt was a breeze. There was a cool splashing of wind against her cheek. Her first instinct was to bunch up and spring into action. After all, last time she was conscious, she was surrounded by enemies. There was no chance that they let her go after the damage she had done. She should really spring into action to get the jump on her probably captors. However, she quickly thought better of it. She didn't want to give her newest target an edge. For all she knew, she should could be strapped down with a gun pressed to her skull. And so, the filly slowly creaked open her left eye, and she squinted about. To her surprise, she wasn't strapped down. Instead, she was lying on the ground, spread-eagled, with a long strip of cloth bound about her belly, holding down a thick cloth pad that staunched the flow of blood oozing from the wound in her side. She was also alone. The filly lifted her head and rolled over onto her stomach. She immediately regretted it. The shift in weight painfully reminded her of her wounds. She gasped out loud as her head began to pound, and her head became dizzy.

She shook her head vigorously, forcefully pushing away the ailments that wracked her body. She grit her teeth and began to move her limbs to allow her to get to all fours. Her limbs and hooves screamed in protest, but she continued to ignore the pain. As she raised herself, she lifted her right hoof and clasped it gently over the pad that covered her wound on her left side. She began to limp forward to take a look around.

She was in a clearing, surrounded by shining jungle trees. The earth beneath her was muddy and matted with rotting jungle foliage and organic debris. The sky above was dark, and it looked like a storm was gathering, with large dark clouds billowing across the dark blue sky like a splash of gray paint over a canvas. The sun was hanging low, suggesting the time was passing into the late afternoon. Another musty breeze gently wound its way through the jungle, rattling loose bark and scattering the browning earth. It was at this point that the filly noticed that she had been lying on a thin military blanket. She raised an eyebrow. Not only had she been mysteriously patched up, but she had also been provided with a blanket to protect her from the damp, cold ground. Someone had tried to help her, not hinder her. That was new. Her past was a haze, but she was pretty sure that didn't happen to her very often.

"Guessing whoever helped me is not gonna help me any longer," the filly muttered. "Probably dead now. Best to move before whatever killed 'em kills me."

The filly took a step, and then gasped in pain from the shock of movement, causing her to trip. Stumbling forward, the filly quickly grabbed at the bark of a nearby tree. She leaned against it, clutching at the wound in her side. The dark splotch in her bindings darkened, denoting the fact that her movement had reopened some parts of the bloody hole that had healed. Thin rivulets of blood began to trickle from the bindings along her shrunken belly and down her left and right forehooves.

"Gotta… Keep… Moving," murmured the filly, sickly sweat trickling from her forehead to drip into the small puddles of blood that were forming around her hooves. She took a step, then another, then another. She stopped for a moment and leaned against another tree, taking a breather. Then she heard a noise: From a distance, there was a rumbling. The filly closed her eyes as she tried to match the sound with its plausible owner. She grimaced. It was a vehicle. A jeep, most probably. In an instant the filly was paying attention again. There was a good chance this jeep was providing a ride for hostiles. There was also a possibility that the jeep was being driven by the ones that had so strangely helped her. Nonetheless, she was not about to take the chance. She quickly bundled into a bush and hid. It wasn't until the jeep slowed down to a crawl and entered the clearing that the filly saw, to her dismay, that she had left a trail of blood in the earth that led directly to her hiding spot. There was no way for her to run now, and so she bunched her muscles and readied herself to spring into action in the event that they did indeed follow her trial of blood to her ill-placed hiding spot. Waiting with baited breath, the filly clutched at her wound.

The jeep was sand-colored, and there were large crates of ammunition tied to roof and large plastic containers of water strapped to the outside of the side doors and the back door. Two ponies could be seen inside, conversing. Suddenly the driver held up a hoof and rolled down his window. It creaked as it rolled down, crunching slightly as the multiple bullet holes in the pane rolled into the slot in the door. The driver leaned over and looked at the blanket. Then he facehoofed.

"Damn it."

The pony in the passenger's seat looked at him worriedly. "What is it mate? Did the poor kiddie bleed out?"

"No," replied the driver, shaking his head. "She's gone!"

The passenger blinked in surprise and froze for a moment, then he jumped out of the jeep and slid over the hood. His hooves hit the ground with a thud and he scrambled over to where the military blanket lay, used, crumpled, and stained with blood. The driver got out as well and scuffed at the blanket.

"Guess that's it then. Silly little foal probably ran off to bleed out somewhere. That sucks. Let's get out of here, Brag."

The passenger shook his head. "Nah, mate. I don't think so. Hey! Look there! A trail of blood!"

The driver nodded. "It's thin. She must not be bleeding too much. If we're not too late we might catch her."

The passenger nodded. "Right you are, Franklin. Let's see if we can catch up to the poor little filly before the kid dies twice."

The filly looked to her left, and then to her right. There were no other places to hide. She was never really good at hiding anyway. There was no other choice now other than to confront these strangers. Just as the two strangers began to slowly follow the trail of blood, she took a deep breath and shouted loudly.

"I'm here! But I don't want your help! I'm right as rain; I'll be fine!"

The driver pony, Franklin, whipped up a handgun that had been strapped to his shoulder. The passenger, Brag, was even faster, shoving down Franklin's trigger hoof as quickly as he whipped it up. He gave Franklin a warning look and then straightened up, making it clear he was not reaching for any of his weapons (and he was practically covered in them).

"Hey there kid… You doin' okay? We helped you out of that jam earlier today. We only left you for a little while to make sure we weren't followed by… Well, that doesn't matter right now. We came back for you. You're hurt."

The filly poked her head out of the bush she was hiding in to bear her teeth at the duo viciously. "I don't want your help! I wanna be left alone!"

Brag looked at the filly cautiously. "You're hurt, mate. You're bleedin' out, and you know it. Look, we don't want to take advantage of you: We're not gonna rape ya an' we're not gonna kill ya. You heard us earlier, right?"

Franklin nodded in affirmation of his friend's words. "Yeah. Also, there are hostiles that will be coming soon. They have guns. Big ones. They will kill you no doubt."

Like always, the filly's heart did not waver. "Guns? Hah! Well forgive me if I ain't twisting my knickers! I'll be fine by myself!"

She stomped a hoof, but then abruptly cried out in pain. Her bindings parted, and the mess of bandages and gauze came apart, revealing the wound. It was red and puffy, and puss and yellowish tissue bubbling around the edges. Infection was beginning to fester in the wound, and the filly's condition was getting no better.

Despite her aggravated and fearsome (yet somehow adorable) visage, Brag rushed to her quickly before she could recover from the pain that ran through her body like a shockwave and run away. He grabbed the filly and began to rebind her wound with the bandages that had fallen off her. She struggled weakly.

"Stop squirming kid!" Brag snorted. "By my auntie's pinny, you're just trying to die, aren't you?!"

"I'm not gonna die!" snapped the filly, still squirming like a snake in its death throes. "I'll be fine if you get offa' me, ya great lump!"

At this point Brag was taking more no lip from the stubborn girl. He hoisted her from out of the bush and then grabbed the military blanket. He tossed both onto his back, and put his life on the line by putting the weapon-crazy foal beside the straps that held his dual machetes. She squirmed a little more (surprisingly not making a move toward grabbing the unguarded blades and attempting to decapitate her "captor"), before giving up in order to let the pain that ran rampant through her body simmer away. Franklin stared at the filly with a strange look upon his face. It almost looked as if he was trying to remember something. Did he know this foal? He felt like he did. But from where and when? He face grew intensively pensive, but then after a minute of silence he gave up with a tired sigh. He shrugged to himself and then raised an eyebrow to Brag.

"Guess this means I'll be drivin' the tin can again. You keep an eye on the young rip."

"I'm no 'young rip' ya pissmop! An' I bet you're gonna crash that car afore we get anywhere! " snapped the filly, determined to do as much verbal damage (inefficaciously) as she could, as her physical form was now too weak to render any harm.

Franklin just rolled his eyes. "Kids got no respect for elders these days." He hopped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine, wincing as it sputtered hoarsely and then roared to life. "I swear that we're going to need to ditch this thing soon, Franklin. Tyre probably has this thing marked down now as our vehicle."

Brag nodded as he lay the filly down in the back seat and strapped her in, sitting down next to her and giving her a stern eye to make sure she didn't try to bail out. Fortunately for him he was at one door (the left side), and a large pile of empty guns and food rations were at the other, sandwiching the belligerent child in between. "Right you are, mate. But let's get back to the base first. Then you can weigh down the gas pedal and aim it toward the river."

Franklin glanced at Brag in affirmation and then put the pedal to the metal, sending the jeep careening into an even deeper part of the jungle with a squeal and a bang.

"Where are you takin' me?" snapped the filly, still in high dudgeon.

"Home. Well, as close as one can get to a home in this hellhole," was all that Brag said on that matter. He then gently poked an unstained part of the filly's bandage. "I'm changin' this. Don't squirm. Don't bite."

The filly looked at him with a grudging eye. "Don't touch me then." She covered herself with her hooves, preventing him from pulling the things off. There was really no reason to stop him from changing her bandages, but at this point she was doing this all purely out of spite.

Brag looked at the filly for a minute in silence. Then he turned to Franklin. "Mate, look in the glove compartment. Iffin' I remember correctly, there's a handkerchief and a bottle of chloroform in there. Hand me it."

Franklin made no move toward the glove compartment, but Brag gave the filly a significant look nonetheless. The filly stuck her tongue out at him and moved her hooves limply to her side, giving Brag access to the wounds. He pulled a first aid kit from under the seat in front of him and opened it up, extracting a packet of fresh gauze, a squeezable bottle of disinfectant, and a roll of bandages. He pulled the filly's bandages away and grimaced. Despite being only in use for more than several hours, the bindings were tattered, stained with blood, and yellowed with puss. The bandages peeled away with a sickly squish, and the filly shut her jaw tightly. Her jaw muscles bulged, and tears squeezed from her tear ducts as pain burned through her nervous system. He almost threw the rags out the window, but then immediately thought better of it. He shoved them under his seat and pulled out a mass of cloth from the kit. He soaked it in cleansing disinfectant and pressed it into the filly's side. She jumped as it stung her wounds. She had expected the pain fully, but she glared vindictively at Brag nevertheless. He promptly ignored her. Hooves moving swiftly, he wrapped strip after strip around her sides and over her belly, binding up the hole in her side once more. He then wrapped up the filly's right shoulder and back right leg, both which had been deeply cut as well. Sighing, Brag sidled away and shook his hooves, shaking off free droplets of the disinfectant liquid that had gotten upon his hooves.

"Done, kid. Don't kill me."

The filly gently tugged at her bandages, checking their strength. They held the padding of her wound snugly, and the burning in her side had diminished. She scratched the back of her mane and glanced at Brag with grudging respect, looking a little more amiable now. "S'fine now. T-thanks."

Brag actually grinned. "You're welcome."

The trio lapsed into complete silence. Franklin gave the two a thankful glance, and then went back to piloting the jeep around the jungle trees. The sun dipped lower and lower, slowly staining the sky crimson as it was swallowed by the western skies. Stars began to appear. First a single sparkling dot appeared. It was followed by another and another, and slowly the parts of the blackening sky that wasn't veiled in dark cloud were all filled with the shimmering particles of bright light, a testimony to the ancient balls of light countless parsecs away. Brag grinned. The island of Redzion seemed so deceptively peaceful at night. What a load of baloney. He looked back to the filly, who was staring straight ahead, not giving anything away; her face deadpan. Brag hesitated for a moment, and then started to talk to her again.

"Now tell me, how in the hay you got all the way out here?! The pirate town is a good thirty or forty kilometers away from the beach wastelands. Did some no-good bile-sucker leave you out there ta' die?"

Feeling self-conscious with these questions, the filly looked down at her back hooves (which were dangling out in front of her as she sat with her rump lying upon the car seat) and mumbled "Ain't heard of no pirate town. I'm from the sea. Washed up here."

Brag blinked. "You washed up here? That's the worst o' bad luck, mate. I'm dead sorry. What happened? Plane crash? Cruise pulled into a storm?"

"Dunno. Can't remember much. It's all a jumbled bunch. Big stinkin' mess. I think 'twas a plane. Yeah." The filly blushed a deep crimson. To her, admitting her short dose of amnesia was like admitting a weakness. She didn't like to do that.

Brag nodded and stroked his chin. "Planes. Didn't ever trust the damn things. Betcha a storm was the bane of your trip."

"Suppose," replied the filly quietly. Her eyes still blazed, but for an instant she looked her age, cowed and quiet.

That small flash of calm emotions caused Brag to smile a little. She wasn't totally a little brat after all. "What's your name, kid?"

The filly closed her eyes and thought about it for a moment. "I dunno. Don't have no name far as I'm concerned."

Brag opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just looked at her. She shivered. Was that pity in his eyes? She hated feeling pitied, but somehow it made her feel safe. She stared at him, feeling as if she should say something, mayhap apologizing for her previous actions. Sadly she couldn't find the words. She had never been too good at sweet-talking anyway. She turned away and leaned against the pile of weapons beside her, peeking through a square hole in the stack of crates and through the cracked window to the environment blurring by outside. It was dark, and they were moving too fast to see much that was upon the earth, and so she moved her attention to the sky above. She gasped quietly as she saw the night sky. Something deep within her memory clicked. Her first anamnesis since washing ashore with little to no memory… Perhaps now even her last. Nonetheless, her eyes brightened as the revelation struck her.

"Starlight. That's it. Starlight. 'Tis my name."

Brag looked to her and smiled as gently as his scarred, mangled face would allow. "A good name, kid. A good name. 'Tis somethin' worth fighting for if ya ask me. I'm Bragurn Sorabando, but my mates call me Brag. You can too if you fancy. That looney steering this roving junkyard is named Franklin Montgomery."

Franklin had been staring at Starlight since she had introduced her name, an intensively interested look upon his face. It was a miracle he hadn't crashed into a tree yet. "S-Starlight…?"

Starlight stared at Franklin blankly. "Are you bucking daft? Look to the road!"

Franklin jumped in his seat and whipped his head back to look ahead. "Right! Right! Damn. Sorry about that. S-so… Starlight, right? I knew a foal named Starlight once. She lived in Ponyville – a place in Equestria, you see – but she was naught but a newborn then. You, er… You aren't from that place, perchance?"

Starlight shrugged. "Dunno. Dunno much really. Don't remember nothing 'cept my name. But I can fight. An' I'm brave. You saw me back there. Most fillies would be pissin' their dumb girly hooves when poked with any manner o' weapon."

Franklin pulled a face as he remembered that this particular foal had torn out a being's throat with her teeth. The Starlight he had known when he had lived in Ponyville had been a sweet, kind toddler. This feisty youth didn't seem related in any conceivable way. His memories of Fluttershy's little baby Starlight had been a while ago anyway. He had probably forgotten what she had looked like. "Eh… Yeah. No one says they're from Ponyville anymore anyway. Sorry. Case of mistaken identity. Forget about it."

Starlight looked at Franklin with a raised eyebrow. He just pointed his muzzle straight ahead, looking out the front windshield as he continued to guide the jeep between trees and over rocks. He didn't turn around again. Hours began to pass. The moon slowly climbed into the sky, and the storm clouds drew nearer, and still they continued to drive. Occasionally he would swerve to drive a kilometer or two in a shallow brook or stream before breaking off and taking to the jungle again, coasting the banks of the a stream that gradually widened into a river. Just as they reached the river's rapids, Franklin finally slammed on the brakes. The jeep ground to a halt and just sat there, humming and rumbling gently in an almost hypnotic, sleep-inducing rhythm. Brag glanced at Starlight. The disheveled little filly was asleep, occasionally tugging at the gauze on her right shoulder. Brag tapped her, and she shot awake like a military veteran. She looked about, her eyes ablaze and ready for action. "We there?"

Franklin stretched and shook his head. "Not yet kid. I'm gonna dunk the jeep in this river. C'mon Brag. We'll unload the ammo and supplies and hide it around here 'till mornin'. We'll walk to the base and then retrieve what we've stowed at a later date. We can grab ourselves another jeep in the town some other time."

Brag bundled out of the jeep, followed by Starlight. The air was humid and smelled of both the oncoming storm and the jeep, which reeked of hot oil and burning fuel. A slow peal of thunder rolled across the sky, which was soon followed by a fat drop of rain, tumbling down from the skies above to smack the hood of the jeep with a light tap. A light drizzle started, forming a thin mist in the hot atmosphere.

Franklin looked up and pulled a face. "Awesome. Damn rain. Right, everyone unload the equipment and drop it into the bushes over here, there, there, and there. Starlight, can you walk?"

Starlight looked at her wound, and then at Franklin, her eyes steely with determination. "I'm good. I'll help."

Brag shook his head. "These boxes are loaded. Packed to the brim. Take a breather, kid."

Starlight stared hard at Brag and shook her head vigorously. "Not on your life. I'm helpin' no matter what you say."

Brag sighed. Then he nodded to Franklin. "Right… Fine by me, mate. Here, take this box." Brag handed her one of the (lightest) boxes.

As she carried it upon her back to a bush and pushed it deep within the foliage to hide it, he took another box from the back of the jeep and gave it to Franklin. The trio slowly unloaded the crates and crates of ammunition, weapons, and food as the drizzling carried on. The moon continued to climb, and a gentle hum thrummed through the air, the soft sound of a peaceful jungle. All seemed at rest. All was quiet.

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 **Author's Notes. I enjoyed making this chapter. For all that the action scenes have going for them, nothing can top the sincere interactions between main characters. Character development is the heart of a good story, my friends. That is all for now. Let me know what you thought!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes. Hey there! Before we kick off today's chapter, I shall answer a couple reviews.**

 **To bluecatcinema: That's a fairly good bet! However, we shall have to wait and see how this unfolds.**

 **To Guest: You think so? Let's see if I can make this even more interesting!**

 **That's it! Enjoy the latest chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: A Transient Sanctuary**

The rain continued to drizzle lightly, coating the jungle with thin layers of droplets. An hour had passed since the trio had stopped the jeep for the last time, and they were finishing the unloading of the vehicle. Franklin and Brag grunted with exertion as they hoisted a large crate of live ammunition between them. Starlight stood upon the roof of the jeep, untying the last of the gun crates strapped to the top. She was sodden and cold, and her hooves shook numbly as she fumbled with the cords. Finally she gave up and bit the ropes, grinding and pulling on them until they came apart. As the straps split with a "twang", Starlight sat up on her haunches and licked her lips, spitting out a couple small scraps that had gotten in her mouth.

Franklin stood at a distance, staring at Starlight with a half-horrified-half-curious look upon his muzzle as he assisted Brag in stowing small packets of 12 gauge slugs. Brag noticed Franklin staring.

"What ails you, mate?"

Franklin shrugged, continuing to stare as Starlight shoved a crate of guns off of the roof of the jeep, leaping down to hoist the fallen crate onto her back. "A long time ago, before I went to live in the Crystal Empire, I had a friend. His name was Sunset Shadow, a former Dimensional Traveler like me. He had a child, and I swear his baby looked just like that foal."

Brag glanced nonchalantly at Starlight, then he glanced back to Franklin. "Did your friend's child bite out the throats of her enemies?"

Franklin simply shook his head.

"Well then, mate. There's your answer. Don't worry your head about it."

At that moment Starlight staggered along, dragging her box of guns along. She shoved it into a nearby bush and shook her head, shaking loose the droplets that were forming in her mane from the drizzle. She scowled at her two allies, who were standing about the large crate of shotgun slugs, conversing.

"You two bastards goin' ta' stand around all day like that? Iffin' I was leader I'd be sendin' you two ta' scrub the floors for yer laziness! That's right, leave the poor wounded foal ta' do all the work! Bucking malt-worms!"

Brag glanced at Franklin and rolled his eyes. "It looks like the sand dogs did a sorry job of wounding yer flippin' tongue, mate! Tell you what: We'll go and scrub the floors and you can finish unloading the jeep! Sound fair?"

Starlight scowl darkened, but she didn't reply. She sauntered off in a gloomy manner, muttering as her tail swished back and forth. Brag grinned and whispered: "That's my type o' gal!"

Franklin blinked. "You're crazy. She's crazy. You're both crazy."

Brag winked, and continued to unload the boxes of slugs until the crate was empty. Then he trotted off to join Starlight and help her drag a large box that housed the metallic casings of a FGM-148.

Tugging at the box with all her might, Starlight gasped, "Why… The Buck… Do ya have… So many guns?!"

Brag shrugged, situating himself behind the crate so that he was pushing it, slipping and sliding in the mud as he worked towards inching the box forward. "We're supposed to be somethin' of a two-pony-army, kid. We were given a choice o' guns, so I said 'thank you kind sirs! We'll take 'em all!' And so here we are: With a jeep full o' bazookas n' blasters."

Starlight stuck out her tongue in concentration, digging her hooves into the mud as she threw her back into the endeavor to move the dismantled anti-tank system. "A two-pony-army? Are ya' figurin' to take on the bucking world?"

"Close enough," muttered Brag. Finally the two worked out a system, allowing them to push and pull in unison. Soon the box slid forward through the mud. In two minutes they had it across the clearing that bordered the river. They stowed it in one of the largest of the thick brush that had not been previously filled with boxes of munitions. As they did this, Franklin loaded the last couple of boxes of supplies into a satchel.

"I think we're done," he said as he joined Brag and Starlight to assist them in tossing foliage and loose leaves upon the crate, camouflaging it. "I've packed a satchel full with some canned food and weapons. A few of the Colt Mustangs. I suggest we ditch the glocks in the jeep when I drown it."

Brag nodded. "A'ight, mate. We ought to be getting ready to go. Oh. First though…"

Brag reached into Franklin's satchel and pulled a long strip of cloth. He then turned to Starlight. She stared at him. "You just changed my bandages. You just like touchin' my body, dontcha?! Child-lover! I see how it is!"

Brag pulled a face, his muzzle the picture of longsuffering. "No. This ain't for yer wound, missy. We need to cover your eyes-"

"I wish it was for your mouth," interrupted Franklin, muttering under his breath.

Brag glanced at Franklin, but continued with what he was saying. "-Ya see, we can't afford to let you see where we set up operations. Precautions and the like."

Starlight wrinkled her muzzle. She understood completely, but she was tired and cold, and the wound in her side was aching terribly, and so she couldn't help but be a bit pointed. "Fine then. Go ahead… Pissmop."

Brag sighed loud and long. "Iffin' I was yer mother, I would wash yer profanity-spewing gob out with so much soap that you would be spittin' bubbles for a season. Bloody oath I would."

Starlight stuck her tongue out at Brag, but didn't wriggle as he wound the strip of cloth about her head, covering her eyes. Brag then took her hoof and led her away from the clearing as Franklin stayed behind with the jeep, preparing it for its hurtle into a watery grave. He gunned the engine and turned it to face the river, which was rippling and bubbling softly. It was wide and deep, a perfect final resting place for the jeep. Franklin then dropped an empty crate upon the gas pedal. Its weight drove the pedal to the metal, and the jeep roared to life, its wheels spinning in a blur, spitting mud high into the air. Starting off slow, the jeep picked up speed. Soon it had enough traction to shoot across the clearing. Just as it reached the river, the wheels struck a couple jutting rocks, bouncing it into the air and sending it floating through the sky and dropping it into the center of the river. Upon impact, the wearied engine gave out, and the jeep sputtered and gurgled, its headlights flickering. In a second the lights died, and the engine went silent for the last time. It sank beneath the quiet waters of the river, with nothing but a couple of bubbles to mark its passing. Franklin couldn't help but bow his head in respect.

"You were a good vehicle. You carried our supplies and took many a bullet for us. Rest in peace my friend."

Franklin straightened up and turned about, leaving the river and the clearing packed with hidden ammo crates behind.

 **…**

"Are we there yet?" asked Starlight, annoyance tinging her tone. Her mane clung to her like a wet mop, and rills running down her face to drip off the tip of her muzzle. "I've stubbed my hooves thrice at the least. Wait half a tick… You've been doin' that on purpose, haven't you?!"

Brag chuckled, wiping away the rainwater that dribbled into his eyes. "You can't prove that I am, missy. But 'tis a wonderful thought nonetheless."

"Iffin' I wasn't blinded by this dumb cloth, I'd slug you one pretty."

This caused Brag to chuckle a little more. "You're just one livin' for the fight, aren't ya?

Starlight nodded her head vigorously. "That's life, ain't it? Gotta take it by the throat! Well… That's what my teachers used to say… Or at least I think they were my teachers. I dunno. Mayhap not…"

Brag patted Starlight on the shoulder. He was surprised when she lightly pressed into the gesture, as opposed to drawing away from his touch. "You're a piece o' work mate. I admire your drive. But you might want to lighten up a bit! I don't reckon I've ever seen you smile since you bit out that one sand dog's throat."

Starlight actually blushed a bit. "Didn't mean ta' do that. Was caught up in the fight. 'Twasn't a good way to go, I know that. Shouldn't have done it like that."

Brag sighed. "I've killed many a pony in a way that I'm not proud of. Once drown a mare in her own bath. She was a target. A tyrant, I believe. 'Twas was a sore way to go though. But it needed to be done."

Nodding her head slowly in agreement, Starlight then cocked her head to one side and flicked her ears. "Sorry for my pryin', but I gotta know: What in the name o' Kytax are ya doin' here?"

Brag paused for a moment. Kytax? That was a new one. He had heard ponies swear by the Princess Celestia, by the Stallion Empire's Emperor, and the hallowed Dimensional Lords, but he had never heard of that name. He shook the moment of confusion off and replied. "I'll tell you that when we're out of the rain, kid. Ah. Speak of the devil. Here we are."

Brag lay a hoof upon Starlight's shoulder, bidding her to stop. With the rain still pattering upon their heads, he unwound the bandages that acted as a makeshift blindfold. Pulling away the final strand, Brag revealed to Starlight the look of their hideout. It was a shed and the headless husk of a tank, cobbled together with rusting metal plates. The tank had somehow been turned on its side (probably done long ago by an explosive), and it acted as a side-room attachment to the shed, which was about twenty meters by twenty meters by three meters, all made out of metal plating and planks of aged wood.

Shrugging humbly, Brag pocketed the cloth strip while saying "Ain't much, mate, but we've been holdin' up here for the good part of a year. 'Tis the best home I've had in a fair while."

Starlight actually smiled. Unfortunately it was the smile of a childish pyromaniac. She still had yet to reveal the kind and young spirit of the fourteen-year-old foal that remained locked deep within her. "Is that a TANK?!"

Brag nodded. "Sure is. We found it here, sitting on its side and collecting ivy. It was perfect, and ought to give Franklin and me some ripper fire cover iffin' it comes down to that."

At this point Franklin came galloping in, water streaming from his mane. "Finally caught up with you guys. It's done. The jeep is singing it's last at the bottom of the river. I've marked a couple of the trees with my dirk so we'll be able to make our way back to the hiding spots."

"Right-o," replied Brag. "Let's get our head under cover afore we get anymore soaked… Though I fancy that isn't possible anymore."

Franklin, Brag, and Starlight slogged through the mud toward the shed, the rain continuing to drizzle down in blankets. Spitting out rainwater the dribbled over his lips, Brag stumbled in, followed by Franklin and Starlight, both soaking messes like him. The moment he was inside, Franklin flopped to the earth and ran a hoof through his soaked mane. Brag and Starlight sat down beside him.

"By Kytax," snorted Franklin. "Brag, remember what the contractors said to us before we took this job? 'You'll have fun!' They said. 'Beautiful beaches galore and shining sun all the time!' They said. Shining sun my ass. It's only sunny one third of the time, and during that one-third the sun is trying to burn our eyes out, not trying to give us nice tans."

Brag rolled his eyes. "I remember. 'Only a couple enemies' they said. 'Low profile target, not a problem.' Well mate, that there was a lying arsehole iffin' I ever say one."

Starlight's ears flicked slightly in interest. She generally didn't concern herself with the troubles of others unless they involved her directly, but these two mysterious stallions seemed to be in a lot of trouble. And maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to care about their troubles herself. After all, they had cleaned and bound her wounds and nursed her back to health when she was on death's doorstep. Was there no better way to earn one's respect? She turned about and looked through the loose flaps that acted as a sort of makeshift door for the shed. The flaps wobbled and waved in an insane dance as the wind and rain tore at it, giving her a glimpse of the world outside. The jungle was quiet, still buzzing with the humid heat of the afternoon, refusing to be quelled by the downpour. Jungle foliage swayed, the dark green leaves swerving wildly, knocking loose whatever droplets accumulated on them in thin streams of liquid.

Sighing quietly, Starlight turned her head slightly, giving Brag a sidelong glance. "So… You're mercenaries?"

Brag grinned in response. After a second he said, "Well, kiddo, I suppose one might put it that way."

"Not entirely, though," interjected Franklin from where he lay prone on the ground, letting his soaked coat and mane dry off. "We'll do all that 'for hire' stuff that mercenaries generally do, but we do a fair chunk of the work for the Equestrian government."

Seeing that there was no reaction from Starlight, Franklin pressed on. "Princess Celestia is the leading member of Equestria's diarchy. When there is a threat to Equestria that needs to eliminated permanently… She calls us."

Starlight blinked. "This… Princess… She a tyrant?"

Brag laughed heartily. He raised a hoof to slap the young filly on the back, but then quickly thought better of it. He winked at the sodden child and replied, "I bet ya' a barbie n' a half that she's a tyrant, hiding beneath all that frazzle n' bedazzle."

Franklin just grimaced at the comment. "You know, I don't know if you're wrong, Starlight. She seems to care about her subjects, but she tends to go a little – Er, crazy – when her personal friends or her power comes into question. I don't like her and I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me. To be honest, I wouldn't wish that witch luck for all the valuables in the world."

That last comment actually caused Starlight to smile a bit. "And yet you two keep doing missions for her."

"Oy, remember this kid: The greater of two evils is the greatest evil there is… At the moment of course," snorted Brag. "Celestia may be a conniving bastard, but her enemies tend to be real threats. King Sombra, Tirek, the Paradox, the Stallion Empire's patriarch. Any of those names ring a bell?"

Starlight thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't even know if I don't know them, Brag."

Brag sighed. "That's okay. Let's just say top this wholesome conversation with this: Celestia noticed a bugger on this island. Real nasty piece of work. Lots of guns and lots of power. Blah blah blah… He's a bad guy or whatever an' we're the bloody good guys so we shoot his ugly mug into oblivion."

"How long have you been at this particular mission?" asked Starlight.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Franklin airily, getting up and shaking the remaining water droplets off his coat. "Probably seven months or so."

"Not our longest rodeo by half," interjected Brag, winking. "But mayhap our most dangerous and frustrating. We've been throwing everything we've got at the bugger, and he ain't having none of it. We kill his ponies, he has more shipped in from Celestia knows where. We blow up a shipment of his weapons, he sends out another… And that's only if we didn't end up accidentally blowing up one of his bloody decoys."

Starlight sighed. A hopeless case for them it seemed. Though, in the back of her mind, she found herself feeling confident that they would pull through. After a moment she straightened up and trotted over the where a pile of bedding lay. She pulled out a sheet with her teeth. Then she began to vigorously dry herself off. A couple minutes passed before she was satisfied. After, she lay it on the ground and she flopped down on top of it. She rolled over with her belly facing the sky and murmured in pain as she felt the stab in her side stinging frightfully. She gently probed it and then closed her eyes. There was a moment of silence, causing Starlight to open one eye a sliver. Both Brag and Franklin were staring at her. Brag looked amused, and Franklin was blushing. She lifted her head and treated them to a venomous glare.

"Watcha you two pissmops lookin' at?! Go about yer business!"

Franklin almost tripped over himself as he turned to stash away the weapons they had carried with them. Brag simply sauntered off to dry himself off with a washcloth. A couple minutes later they returned. Franklin lay down by the entrance, cleaning a gun absent-mindedly as Brag flopped down beside him as if he hadn't a care in the world. Several more minutes passed. Maybe an hour? Finally…

"Tomorrow mornin' I'm thinkin' we'll take you to the town," said Brag thoughtfully.

Starlight raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Ya plannin' ta' ditch me?"

Brag scratched the back of his head ruefully. "Well… Yeah, mate. We can't have a kiddie getting under-hoof. There's a bastard out there in mighty need of being blown to high heaven, and we're havin' trouble enough without a third pony taggin' along."

Seeing that Starlight was about to viciously protest his use of "tagging along", Brag quickly explained himself before he was consumed in verbal hellfire. "Ya see, Franklin n' I have been runnin' this show ourselves for forever and a half. A third pony, no matter how skilled he – sorry, she – may be, adds an unknown factor we cannot have."

Franklin looked over at Starlight and nodded, his face apologetic. "Sorry kid, but that's the truth. Don't worry. We know some good folks in the pirate town. Skyward is its name. It's not too bad of a place in my opinion, especially for a pirate town. You'll be safe there. We'll also get some of our more acquiescent allies here to begin searching leads on the whereabouts of your family. You never know: They might find out where you've come from. Don't worry, kid. We'll get you out of here yet."

Starlight felt like protesting. The little child in her that she had buried deep, deep down swelled. She wanted to stomp her hoof and insist that they stay with her. She wanted to sniffle and beg them to keep by her side. After all, they had helped her when she had arrived, alone and half-drowned. But after a second of internal struggling she forced down her emotions and nodded, quite emotionlessly.

"Shoulda known it woulda' gone down this way," she sighed. "Best for both of us, I suppose. When will we be goin'?"

Franklin blinked. He had expected an unearthly explosion of rage and temper. He certainly would've protested if the two closest things he had to friends had just notified him that they were abandoning him to an uncertain fate. "W-what?"

Starlight shrugged. "If I was the leader of a strike team, targeting a high-profile target, and I stumbled across a fourteen-year-old filly, wounded and half-drowned, I wouldn't keep her with me. She'd compromise the mission."

Franklin looked at Brag, his face the picture of anguish. If she was trying to use reverse psychology to convince him to keep her on, she was doing a brilliant job. Brag shook his head, bidding Franklin to back down. He then said, "You're an amazing filly, mate. Bloody oath you are. But both of us are trained killers. We have no need for a third trained killer on the team. Sorry kid. We'll leave tomorrow."

Starlight nodded but said no more. She curled up into a ball and said nothing for the rest of the night. As the moon reached its zenith and cast the bittersweet rays of moonlight upon the beleaguered little hideout, the drizzling began to let up, reducing the rainfall to a gentle pattering upon the roof and the soaked jungle foliage. The fat rain drops drummed a mesmerizing tune, synchronizing perfectly with the gentle hum of the forest as it slumbered.

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 **Author's Notes. That's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did, be sure to leave a review! It is appreciated. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes. I'm back again! I must admit that I'm honestly surprised by the fact that I can actually come up with these chapters with such regularity. Don't expect this to always be the case. I do take a lot of time making sure the quality of each chapter is acceptable by my standards (which are quite high). Anyways, allow me to take a moment to answer a couple reviews.**

 **To bluecatcinema: Ooooh. But what would happen if they DIDN'T part ways? Shenanigans would ensue. That's what.**

 **To Capricorn the mediocre: Man, your name is creative. I like it. And I'm glad you enjoy this story! I enjoy writing it, and you can tell I have no intention to pull any punches.**

 **To blakewitt37: Thanks! Like I say, I always place a focus on quality! Keep on enjoying! Oh, and in response to the review posted later on chapter 2, I sent you a PM. However, in the event you didn't check it I'll just tell you of its contents here. I have a couple other stories, but the most popular is indeed called "A Mending Soul." Just click on my name. That will link you to my profile. At the bottom of the profile is a compendium of my works. You'll find it there.**

 **To FocusedStream: Hey there! I haven't seen you in a bit! Nice to see you again! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. And yes, Starlight is amazing. That's why "A Dance of Pawns" exists. Make sure to check "A Mending Soul". I have a bit of young Starlight there. In fact, it was the massive response that I got from there that prompted me to start up this little story.**

 **That's it for now. I will mention that this particular chapter doesn't do too much. No action just yet, but I can promise you some intense writing in the following chapter. A stage must first be set before the action can begin, and that is what this chapter is for. But don't be worried. This story contains character development and setting development galore. Read on!**

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 **Chapter 4: Town by the Sea**

Starlight was the first to wake. Dawn was just breaking through the thick canopy of the jungle in long shards of cold light. The little girl sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked down and saw that sometime during the night either Franklin or Brag had gently lifted from where she lay on the thin blanket and set her into the comfier of the two cots. Twice the required bedding was piled upon her as well, and her wounds were freshly dressed with clean strips of cloth. She shook her head in wonder. Though she remembered nothing of the past, she felt fairly sure no pony before had ever managed to get near her while she slumbered without triggering her killer instinct. And yet the two mercenaries had managed to get her comfortably situated without triggering any of her mental alarms. Miraculous to say the least.

After a moment of begrudging wonderment, Starlight took stock of her situation. Brag was sleeping on the other side of the small shed, his machete buried halfway in the ground beside his head. A thin blanket bundled into a sphere acted as a pillow, and a second thin blanket acted as a covering. Franklin lay several meters on the second cot, snuggling with a rocket launcher. Both were still fast asleep. Sleeping in, as it seemed. Quite a dangerous thing to attempt considering the situation they were in.

Starlight crawled out of bed and rubbed her eyes. For a minute or two she contemplated waking her two companions. The sun had yet to fully show itself, but precious time was still being wasted. She decided on a course of action, but before she could say anything...

"Anemone!"

Franklin's eyes snapped open as he uttered that word, sharply and loudly. However, truly, it was less of an utterance and more of a strangled gasp. He got up quickly, his eyes wild, the rocket launcher fell to the wayside with a clang. Fortunately it wasn't armed. In an instant his eyes fell on Starlight, and his eyes transitioned from pained and panicking to unreadable and deadpan.

"You're awake."

For a second Starlight wished to inquire upon the strange outburst, but she decided against such a course of action. There was no need to concern herself. No one smiled favorably upon the plying and the conniving. She blinked and then said, "Indeed I am. Well, 'iffin we're fixin' to be leaving me in this pirate town o' yours, I suggest we get a move-on afore anymore daylights wasted."

"Right you are, mate."

Franklin and Starlight turned to see Brag, dragging himself to his hooves, only taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. Swiftly he began to busy himself with polishing his machete. "We'll be takin' off soon."

Suddenly Starlight felt a bit apprehensive. An uncomfortable cramp was forming in the pit of her stomach as a result from this abrupt bout of nervousness. "Er... What's the plan?"

Almost as if he could smell the Starlight's nervousness, Brag glanced back and treated the filly to a comforting wink. "I know a pony. Good mate o' mine. She'll keep you safe and fed. Then we'll get some of our spies to begin a search for your past whereabouts. Bet you a barbie n' a half that it's Equestria."

Starlight cocked her head to one side as she thought about it. She didn't remember anything about a homeland, naturally. But, honestly, the words "Equestria" and "Ponyville" had nice rings to them. They seemed to denote peace and comfort. Starlight was a fighter, there was no doubt about that, but she was still a child. Her form was aching and wounded, and she was simply too young to take the damage being dealt to her by the world. She closed her eyes and murmured in agreement as she gently probed the depths of her mind, searching for some kind of hoof-hold that would provide her with a needed revelation about her homeland. Nothing. Blackness. Void.

There was an awkward pause as Starlight dwelt upon the empty memories of her forgotten past. After a minute Brag almost started with surprise as he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "Oh yeah. I'm goin' back to our hidden depot. It'll be only half-a-mo, then I'll be back to grub us up some brekkie. Be right back."

He straightened up and trotted out of the makeshift headquarters, calling back, "Won't be gone too long! Gonna grab some supplies! Franklin, iffin' Starlight asks you if she can drive the tank, tell her no!"

With that Brag was gone, leaving an indifferent Starlight and an uncomfortable Franklin. The two sat in silence, listening to the leftover droplets from last night rainfall run off the jungle foliage, splashing gently into the waning pools of liquid lying willy-nilly about the jungle floor.

"Anemone?"

Before Starlight knew what she was doing, she had asked the question that she thought she had put out of her mind just minutes ago.

Franklin sighed. For a moment he considered dismissing the question. But there really was no reason for such a thing. It was no secret, and it in no way exposed or weakened him. Perhaps it would even make him feel a bit better if he shared the story with one more soul. Despite his distaste for Starlight's attitude and manner of speech, her mind was vastly more mature than her physical body.

"Sapphire Anemone," he said slowly, thinking about his words carefully.

"A pony?" inquired Starlight without looking at Franklin.

The stallion bobbed his head gently in affirmation. "My wife. She's dead now."

"Killed?"

"Suicide."

Starlight started slightly. She had not anticipated such a reply. She looked at Franklin, inquiry playing faintly across her features. "Suicide?"

Franklin shrugged, his face the picture of resignation. Glum and yet somewhat stoic. "She was pregnant. But there was a miscarriage. A day later we found out she was incapable of ever having children. Next thing I knew she had hung herself. Apparently she couldn't bear the thought of being unable to give me children."

Starlight murmured softly. That was terrible. To her it seemed horribly selfish of Sapphire Anemone to take her life like that, but she refused to say anything on that. The two tired ponies lapsed into silence again, though this silence was certainly a lot more painful and awkward than the last. Fortunately (maybe) this silence only lasted half as long, for suddenly Franklin decided to pose his own question of equal tact. As in none.

"Yesterday, when you lay down, I noticed that your stomach… Well, your stomach bore deep scar marks. I've been around and seen many things, so I immediately recognized the type. Electrical whip marks. Burned deep into your flesh. I've also noticed bullet holes in your limbs and the faint markings of old rips and tears. Are you sure you don't recall where you got such horrible wounds?"

Starlight sat up and placed her back against Franklin's cots, giving herself a clear view of her belly. Franklin was right. There were lashes that lined her soft coat, splitting the soft brown with stripes of pink and faded white. She then ran a hoof across her right foreleg. Her smooth coat once again was disturbed by a mass of knotted flesh on either side of the limb, marking an entry and exit wound for a rather high-caliber bullet. Her eyes went from her wounds to Franklin.

"I dunno. Don't remember. In fact, I wouldn't be lyin' if I were to say I ain't ever sure I noticed half o' these marks 'till you mentioned 'em."

Closing his eyes, Franklin grimaced and let out a pent-up chuckle in a small puff of breath. "By Kytax… Starlight, you said you were fourteen-years-old, right? You're body has undergone more abuse than the average prisoner of war in the Stallion Empire, and I've seen a few..."

Franklin stopped his sentence short as he realized what he was implying. Starlight had no memory. It was very possible she had been a prisoner of some sort. But this left a very glaring question: Had those beings that had done these horrible things abused her in more unspeakable, intimate ways? In an instant Franklin thought vehemently against the idea of asking the filly such a question. It certainly wasn't irrelevant, but it also seemed inappropriate to ask in almost every conceivable way. Instead he feigned a grin. "Well… Let's just say you ought to be grateful that you're not big on looks!"

Starlight gave him a rather pointed glance before replying with a shrug and a mumble. "Suppose. Ain't never seen no use in all those dumb girly baubles n' trinkets ta' fluff up one's visage."

Franklin's left ear flicked slightly. Had he detected a smidgen of remorse in her tone? Unfortunately for him the hint was gone in an instant, drown in an ocean of impassable indifference. Starlight was absolutely unreadable 99% of the time. Despite that, she might have just let a bit of emotion slip, and he couldn't help but capitalize on it.

"Did I detect a bit of jealousy or remorse in your tone?" he asked, grinning in an almost conniving way. "I bet you my rocket launcher you still think about playing with toys occasionally."

Starlight gave Franklin a scathing glare. "Twist me knickers, pissmop."

Franklin sighed tragically, throwing a hoof dramatically across his forehead. "Language! You're offending my sensibilities."

"Iffin I had a drink for every time you were offended, I would be drunker than a sailor n' pregnant with half-a-dozen stallions' seed," snorted Starlight. Franklin blanched and wisely decided to back away, but not without a parting shot.

"If you're from Equestria you better not be the daughter of anyone I know," he muttered glumly.

The filly just tossed her mane. "Blow me."

"How?"

The voice of Brag echoed from outside the makeshift headquarters. He poked his head through the two entrance flaps, grinning smugly. Starlight considered firing another shot, but then thought against it. She had been throwing barbs at these two stallions for a day now, and they had weathered each one almost with ease. What she was doing was really the definition of "frivolous" in this case. Perhaps it was better if she just simmered down a bit. She nodded her head toward Brag and said nothing.

The weathered old stallion trotted in carrying a pack of rations as well as three canteens of water filled fresh from the nearby stream. "Here's brekkie, buckos. Better eat up afore the sun gets any higher!"

Brag tossed down two of the three packs of rations and water before opening one of the food packs himself. Starlight saw the food and suddenly she felt very, very dizzy. She hadn't eaten in two days, and so her stomach had decided to shove the thought of food from her mind. But now that there was food within her grasp…

Starlight took a step toward the food and then suddenly collapsed, her head swimming and her stomach clenching painfully. In an instant Franklin was by her side, his face the picture of worry. "Starlight? Starlight!"

The light-brown filly grit her teeth painfully. "S-sorry. Ain't eaten in days. Damn stomach just 'membered."

Gently Franklin helped her to her hooves as Brag slid a pack of rations and her canteen toward her. Doing her very best not to rush, Starlight opened up the bag of food. The rations consisted of a small load of dried bread, dried fruits, and some kind of faded herb. The foal ate every last bite as slowly as she could, making sure she didn't gorge herself on the food. That would certainly make her ill at a later time. Then, to her surprise, Franklin slid his unopened pack of rations to her. She looked at the pack and then the stallion. Before she could stop herself her muzzle blushed a deep crimson. "T-t-thanks."

Franklin winked. "Don't mention it, Starlight."

Moving as swiftly as she dared, Starlight took the pack and turned her back on Brag and Franklin, doing her absolute best not to break down crying. She knew she didn't deserve the kindness she was receiving.

A significant exchange of glances passed between Franklin and Brag as the former, almost telepathically, attempted to silently plead with the latter for the allowance to keep the filly with them. However, Brag vetoed the idea with a curt shake of his head without a second thought. A minute later Starlight had consumed the second ration pack and taken a swig from her canteen. Wiping a grubby hoof across her mouth she turned to face her two "friends." A faint blush still tinged her facial featured. She nodded to Franklin.

"Ought we to get goin'?"

Franking sighed. He got up as he replied, "You bet. If we go now we'll be there before noon. And if we're there before noon we can certainly get back to work before the day is through. We need to keep pressure on our target."

"You never really mentioned the poor bastard you were targeting by name. Who is he?" piped up Starlight as she too got up and readied herself for her final departure from Brag and Franklin's HQ.

"Aldius Tyre. Most dangerous son o' a whore a bugger could have the misfortunate ta' meet," replied Brag. "You ain't never heard of him."

"True I'd reckon. Bet you I didn't know o' him afore I lost my memory too," said Starlight as she trotted out of the base, followed by Franklin who grabbed a large pack of supplies on his way out.

Outside the air was surprisingly clean, smelling of petrichor and fresh flora. There was still the gentle background hum of natural jungle activity, but the rot of dying foliage was definitely lacking. The sun shone through the nearly impenetrable canopy, casting a dappled circle of soft light in mesmerizing patters across the padded floor.

"One of the very few beautiful days this island sees," chuckled Brag as he joined Starlight and Franklin. "Well, better capitalize on it. Follow me buckos!"

"Wait," interjected Starlight, "Ain't you gonna blindfold me?"

Brag paused. He thought about it for a moment and then grinned. "Nope. For some damn reason I trust you heaps more today than yesterday. Besides, we might call on you for help if Aldius proves to be more of an arsehole than we've already thought."

The trio began to trek through the forest with Brag acting as the vanguard and Frankling and Starlight bringing up the rear. At least an hour was spent in utter silence, the three simply traversing their own thoughts as they made their way through the crowded landscape. The sun continued to rise, bringing cascading heat in its wake. The background hum increased in intensity, and a gentle shimmering rose from the damp piles of decomposing flora that acted as the jungle's floor. Finally the forest began to thin, giving way to mountainous ranges and large, formidable rocks mottled with moss of varying hues of green and gray. It seemed the numerical count of trees and flora was inversely proportional to the amount of oddly shaped stones positioned about the increasingly rocky landscape, for soon there were very few trees and a shocking amount of towering pillars of stone, a forest of rock in its own right. Starlight squinted at the towering behemoths. A bit later the grade of the floor began to increase, gradually increasing in slop until the trio was definitely trekking uphill.

The slop got steeper and steeper, and then abruptly flattened out to a mesa, peppered with shrubbery and small wind-flattened trees. The trio neared the edge. Before them stretched a massive range of lush seaside cliffs that cut off and dropped into the ocean, flashing perilously steep slopes of marble white stone and rock to the endless ocean beyond. However, the long range of white cliff was disrupted by a massive cleft, a gigantic, hollowed-out notch that dipped gently down to a beach of sand and stone that splayed out like a small neighboring island of its own, surrounded by sheer cliffs on two sides and swallowed by the endless water on a third side. The fourth side led straight up to a large town that was nestled in the cleft of the cliffs. The town was noticeably rickety and quaint, even from this distance, built out of wood and brick. Some houses were even partially carved into the neighboring slopes of white stone.

"There she is," murmured Brag, taking a moment to breathe the ocean air deep into his lungs. He held the breath in for a second before letting it out in one long sigh. Starlight followed suit without thinking, and was pleased by the calming effect it had on her nerves, which had been fraying slowly, under assault from the constant aching from her side.

Franklin eyed the town with a weathered eye. "Right, but we better take some precautions." As he said this he unhitched the massive pack of supplies he had balanced upon his back. He opened it up and tossed Brag a pair of binoculars. He followed this up by tossing Starlight a first aid kit.

"Brag, scope out the area. I know for a fact that Aldius visits the town himself occasionally. Though that would usually be a good thing as it would allow for a discreet assassination, I don't think his presence would work particularly well with our current mission of getting Starlight into a safe home. Speaking of you, Starlight, I suggest you switch out your bindings."

Starlight looked down at the patch at her side. There was a large splotch of faded red in the center, rimmed with a sickly yellow. Fortunately the spot was not too large, denoting the fact that her wound had healed somewhat. The foal grimaced and then looked at Franklin. "Ain't you gonna change it?"

Franklin shook his head. "I know very well that you're probably dying to try out all those 'child lover'-related insults you've been storing up in that conniving brain of yours since I last changed out those bandages. I don't think so."

Starlight's face turned crimson. She looked at her hooves and her ears flattened. For a moment she looked like a child again. A foal that had been caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. Then she turned her back on him and grabbed the first aid kit and opened it up. She pulled a long strip of cloth and a large swathe of gauze, along with a bottle of disinfectant. She fiddled with the worn rope of binding around her stomach that held the blood-stained bandage to her side. After a moment it became apparent that the strip wasn't cooperating. Grunting in frustration, the filly bent her head down to attempt to bite the stubborn piece of binding in two. But before she could Franklin was by her side, whipping out a dagger.

"By Kytax, Starlight. 'Bite' can't always be your Plan B."

Starlight rolled her eyes but said nothing. She let her hooves hang limply as he sliced through the bindings and stripped off the bandages. Then, carefully and slowly, he peeled off the gauze pad with a hoof. Starlight clenched her teeth, gritting them in pain as her nervous system caught fire. With a squish the yellowed pad came off, revealing a bloody hole. The edges were red and angry, and blood still dribbled from the depths of the gouge. The good news was that the pus was gone, and the yellow fat tissue was no longer visible. Franklin closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself to inspect the wound closely. He had seen gore before, but just the thought of the insides of such a young child being exposed to the outside in such a horrible way was just sickening. He gulped, forcing down the bile crawling up his throat. Then he opened his eyes and bent in close, looking over the wound carefully.

"Hit me doc," replied Starlight. Was that a hint of humor in her voice?

Franklin was quiet for a moment, glowering at the wound while thinking that he himself would probably have bit out the throat of whoever had done this to such a foal too if given the chance. "Oh. Yeah, you're healing quite well. The infection has lifted already thanks to the disinfectant, but we better not take any chances."

The stallion straightened up and wadded up a gauze pad, soaking one side in disinfectant. He pushed it into Starlight's wound. The foal's scrawny frame seized up as her nerves jumped once more in protest. Without missing a beat, Franklin began to wrap strips of bandage around her stomach, holding the pad fast to the wound. Then he nodded. "We're all set."

Starlight looked at Franklin. There was a moment of silence, and then she smiled.

Franklin almost stumbled backwards as if hit by a physical attack. Her smile was bright and kind, a ray of golden sunlight slicing through the previously impenetrable wall of black clouds. It was almost as if her smile revealed her true self: A sweet, kind pony, not a killer. But in an instant it was gone, and it felt like the sun had been doused in its entirety.

Franklin stared in silence, wondering to himself how much of the true Starlight had been beaten, shot, and burned in order to be buried so deeply in her psyche. However, the musing didn't last too long, for soon Brag called out, "Hey mates! The town looks clear! I don't see anything worrying!"

Franklin rubbed his head, almost ruefully. "That's good. However, we'll need to keep our eyes peeled on our way down. We abort at any sign of trouble."

Brag poked his head into Franklin's bag of supplies and rummaged around for a bit, producing a handgun. He pocketed it alongside his machete. "Right you are, mate. Ain't the time to take chances. Let's move."

The trio began to skirt the cliff side, making their way toward the small town, nestled in the stone and sand. Seagulls cried out, mingling with the gentle rumble of the restless ocean. A cool wind danced along the curves of the cliffs, shaking the small, dried shrubs and whipping up the wave caps into an ivory froth. The sun beat down on the scene, glinting brightly off the gray waters as the giant ball of fire continued its sempiternal climb over its zenith.

* * *

 **Author's Notes. That's it for now. It looks like Starlight isn't the only one with a broken past. Franklin has had a rough time as well. And I won't mince my words: Many rough times wait for them in the future. But you will have to wait for the following chapters to see what I mean by that. I hope you enjoyed what you read today! If you did, be sure to leave a review. Thanks!**


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